Chapter 23 #2
I launch for it, but she rears back again. “You’re in the rest of the night?” she asks me.
“Give it to me!”
But she doesn’t, and I set the glass down on the table, hauling my ass off the chair.
I charge her.
“Where is he?” she growls.
“Who?” I spit out.
“Do you want to know where he is?” She holds the bottle away. “Because I can tell you.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
I don’t want to know where he is, because he’s a piece of shit who’s surrendering to a life of decadence and indulging shitty people, and he’s trying to hurt those around me and I hate him.
And the liquor will make me forget that I love the way he pants on my lips when I’m inside of him.
“You haven’t touched anyone else in two weeks,” Liv points out, “and on the nights you didn’t come home, we knew who you were with.”
Iron still sits on the chair behind me, but I know his eyes are on me.
I wasn’t really trying to hide anything.
And it’s not affecting my judgment.
I stand up straight. “None of this is any of your business.”
“So you don’t want to know that Damaris is staying with Anna-Katherine tonight,” she taunts. “All night.”
So he went on his date and plans on getting dicked up till dawn. What the fuck do I care?
“Callum ‘will be close,’ he told her,” Liv goes on. “Rip and Tyson reported seeing a deckhand preparing Ames High.”
The Ameses’ power yacht?
Which is docked in the marina three miles away.
“Food, fresh sheets,” she tells me. “I wonder if he’s taking it out. Or just fucking someone there.”
Hot air huffs in and out of my nose as my eyes narrow on my sister.
“Why is he having fun?” she bites out at me. “If what he did all those years ago wasn’t enough, the curfew he’s put us under is.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow, the guilt descending on my shoulders. What I need to keep in mind.
The curfew, Callum’s hand around our throats, his attack on her four years ago…It’s all my fault. Everyone is in jeopardy because of me.
Her brown eyes, like our mother’s, grow strained with anger. “He shouldn’t be able to sleep without one eye open.”
I drop my gaze to the ground. I know.
Somehow I keep letting myself get distracted with all the things that don’t matter about him and forgetting the one thing that does—he’s attacking my family.
Liv shouldn’t have to avenge herself, especially when it’s my fault she ever came into harm’s way after I fucked with him in the first place. A lot can be said about me, but I do clean up my own messes.
And now I have a reason to ruin his night, after all.
I lift my eyes. “Your orders, little sister?”
She offers me a small smile and hands me the bottle. I cap it and set it down.
“They dragged me out of a car,” she says. “Let’s drag him off that boat.”
—
We make it to the marina, which is mostly empty, many of the yachts and schooners traveling the seas for the summer months. Our father’s old trawler sits docked off to the right, among a handful of smaller speed and cabin boats belonging mostly to locals and recreation companies.
The Ameses’ vessel, a beautiful fifty-eight-meter power yacht, floats at the far end. Walking with purpose down the long dock, I glance up at security cameras on each light post, hoping Rip got them turned off.
Tyson informed us that there’s no crew tonight. Callum wants the boat to himself.
I cock my eyebrow. Fuck him. Liv’s right, and I’m grateful she reminded me. If we suffer, so does he. We’ll be back in plenty of time for curfew.
Liv, Iron, and I leap onto the bow, keeping our eyes peeled as we climb the short stairwell up onto the main deck. Slipping inside quickly, I lead them through the living room to a beautiful kitchen. Wooden floors shine; a marble island sits to the right, lights hanging overhead.
I have no idea where Callum will start his night, but he’ll end it in a bedroom. Sliding down another stairwell, Liv and I tuck ourselves in a room, just inside the doorway. Iron stands across the narrow passage, inside another room.
Catching my breath, I remain still, not hearing a peep. Not a step.
I grind my thumb against the pads of my fingers, hearing the squeak of the rubber gloves. I’m not really worried about fingerprints. Callum’s a pussy if that’s how he wants to beat me.
But one of Macon’s young protégés has gotten excellent at homemade chloroform.
He decided to keep some on hand, just in case.
We’ve only used it twice, to my knowledge.
Getting a runaway who’d fallen in with a bad crowd back home to the Bay at his parents’ request and subduing a drunk tourist who we didn’t want to bruise up.
The gloves protect our hands in case we accidentally touch ourselves after we’ve come into contact with it.
“Grab his new boyfriend,” I tell my brother and sister in a quiet voice. “Dump him at Fox Hill.”
They nod just as the floor creaks overhead. All of us tip our eyes to the ceiling.
The floor above us whines again.
I lock eyes with Iron. Someone is walking around the main deck.
“Is that them?” Iron asks.
Peering around the corner, I wait for someone’s legs to appear on the stairs.
“We should’ve brought Army and Trace,” Liv scolds.
“No time.” I look at her over my shoulder. “Iron and I are on. Are you?”
She hoods her eyes, annoyed. “Yes.”
Quiet footfalls continue to move over our heads. We called Army and let him know what was going down and to come looking if he didn’t hear from us in a couple of hours. We hung up before he could stop us. He’s working anyway. So’s Trace.
“You remember the headlock?” I bite out at her.
She glares at me, baring her teeth. “Yes.”
The youngest and the only girl out of six, she’d better know how to wrestle.
A footstep echoes that sounds like it’s getting closer to us. Slipping to the edge of the doorframe, I see work boots descending the stairs.
My heart beats in my throat.
I glance at Iron, pressing my finger to my mouth. “Shhh…”
Once the man comes into view, his shoes and jeans are immediately familiar to me. By the time I can make out his gray T-shirt with permanent grease stains, I relax.
Stepping into the hallway, I come face-to-face with Macon, but he quickly gestures for me to be quiet. Pointing to the ceiling, he listens for more footsteps.
Callum is here.
Liv and Iron slip out of the rooms, Macon scowling at all of us.
“What are you doing here?” I mouth.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” he growls a whisper, pointing to our sister.
I refrain from rolling my eyes. He wants one Jaeger to not have to worry about other people’s problems. To pursue their own happiness, free from other concerns.
Even though my sister is perfectly capable of getting her hands dirty.
To my surprise, she stands up to him. “Just try taking me home,” she dares him.
We hear the noise of multiple people moving around up in the kitchen, more than one set of shoes walking back and forth.
Stepping around Macon, I creep up the stairs. Rip or Tyson must’ve reported to him.
“You’re not going back to prison,” I hear him warn Iron.
“I know,” Iron replies.
They follow me, and I hold my hand out. “Stay back.”
Rising up just enough, I peek through the railings, stretching as far as I can to the right, to catch a view of the kitchen.
Callum sits on a bar stool at the island, dressed in black pants and a white button-down that’s not buttoned.
Hair a mess, barefoot, and smiling…My stomach sinks at how gorgeous he is when he’s… happy.
He’s driving me crazy.
His new boyfriend puts something in the fridge and passes him a bottle. “Open the wine?”
Callum considers it but puts the wine down, uncorking a bottle of tequila instead and pouring two shots.
They exchange soft, lingering smiles, their fucking gazes loaded with something that’s pissing me off. As they tip back the shots, their gazes meet and hold. I swallow. I should’ve brought a weapon.
“You hungry?” the guy asks.
“After,” Callum replies.
I narrow my eyes. After…
The heat of my siblings’ eyes on my back starts to burn, but I want him to come down to the bedrooms. I want to see him try.
The older man circles the island, Callum spinning around on his stool to meet him. Callum hangs his elbows on the island behind him, the other guy planting his hands on the counter next to Callum’s arms.
Leaning down to Callum’s mouth, the older man smiles. “Goddamn.”
He takes Callum’s face in one hand, his thumb running over his mouth.
“You are very pretty,” he coos. “And I wanted my hands all over you the second I looked at you.”
Needles prick my throat. I’ll bet Callum likes hearing that. Words stoke his ego, don’t they?
The guy drops his mouth to Callum’s neck, the latter letting his head fall back to give him access.
My mouth is fucking dry. I shouldn’t have drunk so much alcohol.
“I need a shower,” Callum breathes out. “You want a shower?”
I grip the silver railing, watching the man’s hand lower to Callum’s groin, rubbing his cock.
The guy growls, moving his mouth to Callum’s shoulders and pushing off his shirt. “Fuck, yes.”
Fuck no. Whipping my head around, I jerk my chin at Iron. He switches the breakers, cutting the lights, and we all launch up the stairs and storm into the kitchen.
I only see Callum and his date pull away from each other, alert, but I grab a bottle of wine from the rack as I pass and throw it at the dark-haired guy like a baseball.
His hands fly up, and he catches it, stumbling back and crashing to the ground.
In a second, Macon is on him, Iron wrapping his arms around the guy’s neck from behind and holding an Envo mask soaked with chloroform over his mouth and nose.
Macon pins him, facing away, the guy’s body slowly going lax and his eyes closing.
Liv lies on the ground, her arms and legs locked around Callum from behind, his neck immobilized as he stares up at me.
Amusement dances in his eyes, even as the veins in his neck bulge.
The room quiets except for Liv’s whisper in Callum’s ear. “Fuckin’ Jaegers,” she taunts.
Walking over to his date, I dig in his back pocket for his money clip. Pulling out his cards, I find his license.